


What Kind of Day Has It Been?

by sleepismyfriend



Category: Star Trek: Voyager, Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepismyfriend/pseuds/sleepismyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without opening his eyes, Pete hears his mother's voice loud and close by. Why is he flat on his back, and why is there so much shouting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kind of Day Has It Been?

**Author's Note:**

> Am I really making any connections everyone wasn't already thinking when watching Warehouse 13? I think not. Please enjoy!

"He's my son—" Without opening his eyes, Pete hears his mother's voice loud and close by. Why is he flat on his back, and why is there so much shouting?

He reaches up, rubbing his forehead out of habit more than anything. He really must have hit his head hard for them to be arguing about him. 

"Yes, well, he may be your son, but he is my agent and when he wakes, I will be the one to speak with him." Mrs. Frederic hisses, and Pete's hand drops. He knows better than to ever mess with that tone of voice. 

"Like hell," Jane huffs. 

"Ladies, please—" At the sound of a calmer male tone, Pete cracks open his eyes. He's lying on his back in what looks like a room of grey and metal; strange flat surfaces with bright lighting. The male tone in question is a baldheaded man in a strange two-toned looking outfit, black from the chest down with grey shoulders and a teal around the collar. He's frowning at both his mom and Mrs. Frederic.

"I saw that, Mr. Lattimer," Mrs. Frederic says. "You really think I don't have eyes everywhere?" 

"Maybe." Pete cracks one eye open before opening his eyes fully. He hasn't seen his mom smile quite this big in a long time, as they approach and her hand gently brushes his forehead like when he was younger. "Where am I, and what's going on?"

"What's the last thing you remember, sweetheart?" His mom's voice lowers.

"Myka and I were in the Warehouse. There were some strange things happening, artifacts disappearing, and these strange yellow grid lines kept appearing all over the place. Artie kept telling us to stay away from them, but I didn't do that, did I?"

"Do you remember anything else?" Mrs. Frederic asks, and Pete shakes his head. The man in the strange uniform stands next to Mrs. Frederic, and the closest to Pete's head, scanning it with a tiny battery looking device that lights up.

"Where's Myka?" Pete's voice rises.

"Pete, your blood pressure levels are really quite high." It was the man's turn to speak, speaking with a cheerier and more temperate tony. "You should try and relax. Your partner is fine. Up and about with not so much as a hair out of place."

"Who the hell are you?" 

"Pete—" Jane warns.

"No, Mom, I'm serious." Pete sits up, only to clutch his head. "Who is this joker, and how does he know Myka's going to be fine? I don't see her anywhere. And stop scanning me with that weird little device that I don't know anything about. Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

Across the room, doors beep, and slide open. Artie and Myka walk through the doors. Artie looks different, that's for sure, in several layers of brown, but it is Myka that Pete is paying more attention to. Her outfit matches the male next to him.

"Oh good, you're awake," Myka smiles. "How are you feeling?"

"You have answers, right?" Pete says. 

"You haven't told him, have you?" Dropping her smile, Myka looks to Jane, who shakes her head. 

"Haven't had the chance," Jane replies, before sighing. "That's what we were discussing when he decided to grace us with his presence."

"I swear, if someone doesn't tell me what's going on—" 

"Lieutenant Lattimer, you and Lieutenant Bering are Starfleet officers of an elite organization known as Section 31," Mrs. Frederic says. "Your mission was compromised, and so we extracted you before anything else could happen." 

"Really, Irene, your storytelling skills leave a lot to be desired. Not to mention, you're not giving him the entire truth," Jane says, as Mrs. Frederic glares her down. 

"I leave that part in your capable hands, Admiral." Mrs. Frederic then turns to the man. "I want daily updates of Lieutenant Lattimer's condition, doctor."

"Yes ma'am," the doctor nods, and Mrs. Frederic leaves through the sliding beeping doors. 

"Well, that's one disaster averted," Artie finally speaks, stepping forward so Pete gets a closer look at him, and truly realize the differences between the man he thought he knew so well, and the one standing before him.

"Artie, what the hell is hanging from your ear? You didn't let Claudia do that, did you?" Pete points to his own ear, slightly horrified, as he then pinches his nose. "Also, when did you break your nose? Those ridges look really painful. If this dude's really a doctor, you should totally have him look at it."

"Pete," Artie says, half grumpy. "Bigger fish."

"He doesn't remember anything," Myka says, looking between Pete and Artie while crossing her arms.

"No, he doesn't. Which means apparently, someone did their job a little too well," Jane says, sighing. "We're going to try and have to undo whatever it was that Section 31 did to prepare you for the mission."

"Is that possible?" Myka asks. "I mean, I don't remember most of the mission prep, and yet I came out of extraction alright, didn't I?"

"You required less attention, yes, but your background wasn't as closely in tune with the mission as Pete's was," Jane replies.

"Pete doesn't appear to be suffering from any severe physical trauma," the doctor chose at this moment to jump in. "Other than the elevated blood pressure and a slight headache from the way he's holding his head, his vitals look quite good. Sufficed to say, whatever is blocking his memory remains psychological."

"Is that what your spidee-sense is telling you, doctor?" Pete grumbles.

"There's a lot we don't yet know about Section 31's procedures," Artie says. "And I'm going to go out on a limb, and say that we're probably not likely to find out anytime soon." 

"Well, we'll just have to figure it out, won't we?" Pete's never noticed until now the small device his mom has in one hand. She clicks it, and it chimes. "Janeway to the Bridge, has Admiral Frederic transported down to the surface?" 

"Yes, ma'am," a different voice chimes through the small device.

"Good, then get us out of orbit, Harry. I want us on our way in the next ten minutes."

"Yes, Admiral."

Jane looks to Artie and Myka, and then to her son. "You need to rest."

"Mom, I'm fine—"

"No buts, Pete. You don't remember anything. That's my fault, and I have to fix it." Her hand touches his cheek before she pulls away. "Commander, if you would—"

"Yes, Admiral," Artie says, following behind her out of the room. Myka shares a look with the doctor, who wanders away, and she approaches Pete's side.

"I still don't have any answers," he says, as she takes one of his hands. "Not that my mom is great about ever giving me any."

"She's been really worried. Pete, I know you don't remember right now, but a lot has happened while we've been away. It's only been the last few months that your mom's been allowed to be involved." 

"Is that why she started hanging around the Warehouse more often? Because honestly, Myks, before I knew she was a regent, I hadn't seen her for years other than the occasional blurry Skype chat." 

"That's just it, Pete. It wasn't that she didn't want to see you; her ship went missing in the Delta Quadrant. She was gone for almost seven years."

"Seven years? That's not possible, Myks. I think I would remember my mother being gone for seven years. What are you really telling me?"

"The Warehouse was a holographic simulation, Pete. One we agreed to participate in in order to protect valuable objects from Earth's past from Starfleet's enemies." Myka's eyes glaze over. "Only it became a little too real."

"Is that all?" Pete rubs his face, annoyed. "Why didn't you say so?"

"You look like shit, Pete. You really should rest. I'll stay here with you, if you like."

"I would. And then I want a dozen chocolate chunk cookies, a large glass of milk, and a fully fledged discussion of everything." Pete offers his hand out, and Myka shakes it.

"Deal," Myka smiles.


End file.
